Alive
by solveariddle
Summary: A nightmare causes Emily to knock on Hotch's door late at night. When the demons of the night threaten to overwhelm her, she turns to him for comfort. But there is something between them, they have to settle first...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi there! It's been a while and I'm glad to be back. See the rest of my A/N at the end of the story.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.**

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><p>The outcome is different, but it always starts the same.<p>

She is running. Not jogging to improve her health. No, she's running for her life. Someone is hunting her, and she knows exactly who it is. Once he gets hold of her, he will kill her. There's no doubt about it. So she's running.

The ground under her feet is bumpy. It's dark. She can't see anything, and somehow she knows that she wouldn't recognize her surroundings even if she could. At first she thought she was outside, perhaps somewhere in the woods, because of the bumpy ground and the damp smell. Then she realized that this is a basement. A trap, if she doesn't find a way out.

Her body urges her to slow down. The muscles in her legs ache, and her lung needs more air with every breath. Nonetheless she doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, because he's still there. Right behind her.

In spite of the darkness she makes out a shadow that turns into a ramshackle wooden stairs when she comes nearer. She has no time to think about whether it is the right decision to run up the stairs. She acts on pure instinct when she does so and pushes open the door at the end of the stairs.

In an instant she is blinded by bright sunlight, illuminating the interior of the house. It's a beautiful old building with high ceilings and wood carvings, but no-one seems to live here. There is no furniture, no sign of another human being. No-one to save her.

When she realizes this, she eventually stops. It's as if her body already has accepted the unavoidable and finally given in, even if her mind hasn't processed the information yet. She breathes heavily and all the same hears his steps running up the stairs and approaching her from behind. She doesn't turn around.

By now she knows she is dreaming, and due to the turn the events have taken, she knows how this dream will end, that this time she will not be able to outrun her hunter. This is neither the first time she has this dream, nor will it be the last. She is not able though to force herself to wake up, and unfortunately the knowledge that this is just a dream, that it is not real, doesn't soften in any way what happens next.

Fear shoots through her body like a wild animal trying to free itself when she feels his hands around her neck. She closes her eyes, tries to will herself into an acceptance she isn't ready for in the least. This is just a dream... But everything tells her to fight, because she doesn't want to die. She wants to live, to be alive, to _feel_ alive. This can't be just a dream. No dream can be so real. No dream can scare her that much beyond all description.

He is so close now that she feels his breath on her skin. The pressure of his hands around her neck increases slowly but steadily. He could be caressing her or strangling her or maybe both at the same time. Still she doesn't turn around. The fear has taken control over her body. Despite the fact that she is almost hyperventilating and her pulse rate threatens to go through the roof, she is frozen in shock and unable to move. The only good thing about it is that she won't give him the benefit to see the anguish in her eyes while he is killing her.

And so it happens. Her pulse rate slows down, her heart rate drops, her breathing stops. And all she can hear is a silent scream in her head, all she can think, before the final darkness consumes her, is that she wants to live, to be alive, to _feel_ alive.

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><p>Emily wakes with a start. It is dark outside and heavy rain is drumming against the window. She fell asleep on her couch; the book is still in her lap.<p>

Her throat is dry. She is not sure whether she is talking in her sleep, perhaps even screaming, there's no-one around to tell her, but she suspects it all the same. This dream was one of the really bad ones. Her hands shake when she puts the book away. Somehow she knows that this time it won't work, won't be enough; nonetheless she reels off her usual routine after one of her nightmares. She stands up, turns on all the lights in her apartment and pours herself a glass of water. Yet her hands won't stop shaking when she drinks it and when it doesn't get better after a while, despite her desperate efforts to calm down and breathe regularly, she eventually acknowledges to herself that this is one of those nights.

One of the nights where it won't go away.

One of the nights where she needs him.

To _feel_ alive.

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N: Ok, first of all, I know the *nightmare scenario* is definitely not a new one in the world of ff. But, really, after all that happened Emily has to have nightmares, and this is how I'd expect them to be. Plus I had to scratch that itch that told me that it's time to write another story and this came to my mind. **

**Story won't be long. Perhaps a two or three shot, don't know yet exactly. We'll see. Besides the nightmares I think that there are some issues between Hotch and Emily, regarding the decision to fake her death and her time in Europe apart from the team, that haven't been touched yet on the show. So this will be part of the next chapter(s). I hope you enjoy it!**

**Having said that, of course it would be really, _really_ great if you left a review. Every review will be kind of a pre-Christmas gift to me and very special. Ho-ho-ho :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N (1): Thank you for the many story alerts. Wow! I guess I never had that many for a first chapter. Apparently nightmares are something people can relate to. :) And, of course, a huge thank you to those of you who took the time to leave a review. **

**I am pretty certain that this chapter will not be what at least some of you expect. I hope you stick with this story anyway and give me a chance to expose what's going on in the next chapters. More A/N at the end of the story, because I don't want to spoil anybody.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.**

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><p>She needs him to feel alive. Otherwise she won't be able to get rid of the feeling of dying, of the darkness that consumed her. Even if it was just a dream, it was so real, <em>too<em> _real_. Like when she had coded in the ambulance.

Once the decision has been made, she acts on auto-pilot. Emily doesn't bother with make-up and doesn't change her clothes either. She just puts on shoes and a coat, still wearing her sweatpants and tank top, clothes she usually wears when she is alone at home and expecting no visitors.

It's a short drive to his apartment, but it's long enough to remember. Astonishing, how she manages to push the memories away during their daily routine. But here and now they are as vivid as possible, as if it happened yesterday and not several months ago in another country, in another life as it seems.

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><p><strong><em>Flashback<em>**

When the decision had been made that SSA Emily Prentiss had to disappear, had to fake her own death, she had had no chance to take part, to say whether she wanted it, _liked__it_, or not. And when she eventually had been fit enough to talk, to act, again, it had been too late. Her colleagues and friends had already buried her. After a short meeting with JJ who had handed her over passports and information about bank accounts, she had been on her own – isolated, lonely and, although she'd never admit it, scared.

Then, one day, he had stood on her door sill. Out of nowhere. Like an apparition. Aaron Hotchner, her boss, the last person she had expected to see.

A thousand thoughts had crossed Emily's mind and she barely had managed to get out some words, "Why are you here? What happened?"

It had only been a short dialogue, nonetheless everything is etched forever on her mind – every nuance of his intonation, every frown in his face – when Hotch simply had answered, "I'm not here to talk. I needed to see you."

As irritating as his words should have been, they weren't. In fact they had had a clarity and his face a seriousness that had needed no more explanation. He had come, because he needed to see her. It was as simple as that.

Back then she had lived in a hotel, her room impersonal on the verge of uncomfortable. One of the many temporary resting places she had called home these days. But when Hotch had touched her, she had felt alive, and nothing else had mattered. There had been no uncertainty or unease. They had just clicked, had let something fall into place that had been dangling in the air for years. Albeit it was only one night, and she has never told him until this day, that night somehow had saved her, somehow had given her the strength to hang on. Their encounter had been the connection to the life she had missed terribly – her family, her colleagues and friends. Most of all though he had made her connect with herself again that night. She had been about to lose herself within the abyss of nowhere land, and he had pulled her back.

Hotch hadn't tried to get in touch with her afterwards. Of course, he had announced it when he left, explained it, told her that it would be too dangerous. And she had seen in his eyes, in his whole defeated posture, that it had hurt him deeply. Nevertheless it had stung like hell, and she had buried the memories of their night together deep in her subconsciousness – his touch, his pleasant smell, his unfamiliar tender voice.

None of them expected Emily to be back with the BAU that soon. And once she was back, there simply was no time for them to talk about what happened, to figure out what it meant, to classify it as an option they should pursue or as a threat they should better avoid. Then again, you can always find the time to talk about something if it's really important, can't you? Anyhow they didn't talk about it. Instead they talked around it, had noncommittal friendly chats on the plane about his son or about JJ's online nickname.

Then her nightmares started. Funny that all the time she had been in Europe, she had had no nightmares. Not even one. As if the monsters had waited for her to settle, to feel deceptively save. One of the nightmares was so bad that she found herself at Hotch's door sill in the middle of the night. He let her in and up to today she doesn't know whether he repeated _exactly_ the words she had said to him in Paris on purpose or whether it was a pure coincidence.

"Why are you here? What happened?" he said – either giving her permission to do what she came here for or just asking a question.

"I'm not here to talk. I needed to see you," she responded, mirroring their conversation in Paris, and now he couldn't hide any longer that he remembered the words too.

She didn't mention her nightmare, just stepped closer, pressed her lips against his almost desperately, and his body gave her the permission she had been waiting for.

She left before Jack woke up, and this time they promised each other that they would talk about it. Then another case came up and another, and in addition there were all the problems of the team getting back together. Emily had to deal with Reid's disappointment, had to make time for Derek's trainings lessons. Hotch had to resolve Morgan's trust issues. And somewhere in between they agreed silently that this was not the right time, to postpone their overdue talk, the decision about their... whatever it was.

It worked until now, until she had the next nightmare that was so bad that she couldn't handle the fallout on her own.

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><p><strong><em>Presence<em>**

And here she is, on her way to the man who helped her through the worst time of her life. A man who always distances himself from others, but who made an exception for her, at least in a way. As much as Emily would like to, she isn't able to take measure of Aaron Hotchner. What she means to him. What he thinks about her, about them. What he feels. And there it is again, exception or not – the distance between him and others, including her.

So what turns an exception into a rule? One repetition might be a coincidence. Are two repetitions the turning point? Or are there rules meant to be broken over and over again and the quantity doesn't matter? Therefore is it finally the acceptance that draws the line and establishes the rule?

It's late and even if Hotch hasn't already fallen asleep, his son for sure has. When Emily sees no light burning, she knocks on the door and hopes that Hotch hears it. Despite her desperation she doesn't want to wake his little boy. It's enough that one of them has nightmares.

Sometimes she doubts that he ever sleeps, because Hotch opens the door in what feels like only seconds after she knocked. Apparently he already has been in bed – sleeping or not – because his hair is tousled and he basically wears the same clothes she does – sweatpants and a tee.

He lets her in, leads her into his living room and pours her and himself a whisky. Emily pulls off her coat and downs the drink with one gulp, before he even has nipped. This prompts Hotch to raise an eyebrow, albeit he still doesn't say anything, just observes.

They are standing very close, and she lifts a hand to touch him, to start their game that will hopefully banish her fear and desperation and make her feel alive.

But when he avoids her touch, steps away from her and leans against the wall, Emily realizes that Hotch won't make it easy for her tonight.

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N (2): So... I hope you're not disappointed that they already had sex. This is kind of a transitory chapter, because I had to explain how Hotch and Emily interrelate in this story. Ever since Emily came back and just nodded briefly at Hotch, I couldn't get rid of the idea that *something* happened between them while she was staying abroad. And to me the tension between them is still there, because they are not in a relationship yet, and nothing is a safe bet between them. Therefore be assured that there will be more (U)ST in the next chapters – how could I tease and then not deliver? :)**

**But in my world Emily and Hotch have to deal with one big issue that also is stuck in my mind ever since I saw 7x01. There will be a hint in the next chapter, and the whole subject will be addressed in the next but one chapter (at least that's what my rough storyline tells me). I hope you'll be around to find out what it is and let me know what you think about it.**

**I'll try to update rather quickly (at least by my standards), respectively within 1-2 days, so that perhaps the story will be finished until Christmas. Can't promise anything though, because the last week at work before Christmas will most likely be challenging. Anyway I'll do my best.**

**Reviews are, as always, very much appreciated. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N at the end of the story**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.**

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><p>It is a weird situation. At best. She came over to her superior's apartment in the middle of the night to... well, superficially speaking to have sex with him, but that sounds so flat, and actually there's more to it. She needs to exorcise her demons, if you might say so. And because of their two earlier encounters, she had assumed that he wanted it too, that it would be somehow strange and unfamiliar, yes, but at the same time wonderful and... <em>cathartic<em> – she has no better word to describe it.

As it is, though, Hotch reacts differently tonight. The way he leans against the wall, looking her over, irritates Emily to the point where it makes her angry. The ice cubes in his glass collide with a clinking sound that unnerves her. He still has only taken a sip of his whisky, and for the lack of something appropriate to say she holds out her glass to him as an invitation to pour her another drink. What he does after briefly hesitating as if he thinks she had enough. And maybe she has, even if this was only her first glass. But she didn't have dinner and already feels the warmth of the alcohol flood through her body. If she intends to drive back tonight, she shouldn't drink another glass, shouldn't have drunk the first one to begin with. Emily is not sure anymore of anything. Why she's here in the first place. Why Hotch reacts like he does. The only thing that is a safe bet right now is her anger that slowly but steadily threatens to boil over.

At least she manages not to down the second glass with one gulp like the first one. She takes little sips, feels the alcohol burn in her throat while the silence between them is becoming unbearable.

"Why are you here?" Hotch asks eventually, and this time it is no foreplay, no reminiscence of one of their earlier encounters, but a real question.

Emily can feel his intense gaze almost physically by now and is hyperaware of her more than casual clothes, her unmade-up face and her uncombed hair. Her anger fights a first touch of shame. How could she do this? How could she come over here? Why didn't she stay at home and try to cope with her nightmare on her own?

Hotch is waiting for her answer, and so she gives him one. "I couldn't sleep," she says evasively, and of course he knows that she is avoiding the truth as soon as the words are out.

He doesn't respond, just tilts his head a little and keeps looking at her with his patented Hotch stare. And this stare finally makes her boil over with anger, because _he_ started this in Paris, _he_ let her in the last time she had a nightmare, _he_... she stops her thoughts, forbids herself to go there or she will snap completely. So how can he dare to humiliate her. As if she threw herself at him, and he has no idea why she acts like this. He of all people shouldn't treat her that way.

"I'm going home," Emily snarls and puts down her glass on the table with more force than intended so that some whisky slops out of it and onto her hand.

"You're not driving in this condition." Hotch is perfectly calm and she almost hates him for it, for his prudence, for his – at least seeming – superiority, but most of all for wanting him so bad, needing him. If there's one thing Emily Prentiss can't stand, then it's weakness, and that's exactly how she feels right now – weak and defenseless.

Hotch suits the action to the words and blocks her way when she tries to leave. It's a bizarre dance. Emily tries to go past him without touching him, without looking at him, but the space is too confined, and eventually she gives up with an exhausted breath. "This is ridiculous," she mutters frustrated and somehow not believing what just happens.

They are standing so close that their bodies almost touch. Without her usual high heels she would have to look up at him to make eye contact. Emily takes this as an advantage to avoid eye contact, staring stubbornly ahead somewhere at his throat.

Thus she doesn't see it coming when Hotch takes her hand – the one with the spilled whisky on it – and brings it to his lips. He turns her hand around so that her palm is against his mouth and softly licks off the liquor. It is completely unexpected and incredibly sexy at the same time, and somewhere deep inside Emily feels her body react in spite of her anger, feels the goosebumps on her skin.

"Don't think I don't want you," Hotch says hoarsely. "But we can't keep doing this without admitting what is going on. And you have to tell me what brought you over here in the first place."

By now her whole body aches for him. She wears no bra, her upper body is in contact with his, and he has to feel it too. Emily wishes he would let one hand slide under her tank top and touch her. All the same her anger won't wear off. It's a dangerous mixture. Alcohol, arousal, physical closeness and too many unsolved issues.

Emily doesn't ponder on what she's doing or why; she is beyond this point. The turn of events ran another path than she had planned for tonight. So she follows her instinct when she lifts one hand to his neck until she gets in contact with his warm skin. This time Hotch doesn't avoid her touch. And when her lips follow the trace of her fingers and nibble tenderly at his skin, she senses more than she hears the moan he tries to suppress.

Aside from the attack on her palm, Hotch didn't and still doesn't touch her, and when she registers a motion out of the corner of her eye – his fists clenching and unclenching – Emily realizes that he is trying with a vengeance to resist her.

A wave of relief shoots through her. And something else – the awareness that no matter what it looked like only a few minutes ago, _she_ is the one who has the upper hand. So she does what she avoided so far. Emily looks up at Hotch and meets his eyes. They are inscrutable, a black darkness as threatening as promising.

She holds his gaze when she moves even closer as if she is going to kiss him. And she knows she has him when he doesn't back away and closes his eyes, accepts what is going to happen. Or at least what he thinks will happen. But instead of a kiss her lips find his ear. Her pulse rate speeds up. She is still angry, but this is not about revenge. This is no payback, because he rejected her at first. This is much more important. He has to _understand_. Understand why this special nightmare is so bad that only he can help her.

"I came over, because I had a nightmare." Her whispered words are a soft breath of air against his face. "The same nightmare I have over and over again. Someone is killing me. I can't see his face, and most of the time I don't know who it is. In some dreams I even can save myself." Hotch's body language is tense but controlled. He expected something like this. There had to be a trigger why she came over. He knows her, knows that it wasn't a random decision, that something had to have happened, and now he knows what it was. A nightmare, nothing he couldn't handle, something absolutely normal in her situation.

"But there are dreams – and I _always_ die in these – where I can't see the face of my murderer either, but yet I know who it is. I just _know_." Emily feels her heart beat in her throat. She didn't expect it to be so difficult to talk about it. Well, she should have known better. After all she didn't come here to talk. But he wants it this way, and so be it.

Hotch doesn't know why this special nightmare completely throws her off track. As if she couldn't handle a simple nightmare. But this one is different. Not because she dies at the end, but because of the person who is responsible for her death. She knows that he totally expects her to say Doyle's name. To name Ian Doyle as the person who hunts and kills her in her nightmares over and over again, even if he is dead in real life.

There is no easy way to say it, so she just lets the words out, feels her lips brush against his skin when she whispers the words in his ear, "It's you Hotch. You're the one who's killing me in my dream."

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N: First of all thank you _so __much_ for favoring my story, the alerts and – most of all, of course – for the reviews and your encouraging words. **

**As to this chapter: When I started to write the story and the first chapter with the nightmare, I totally imagined Emily dreaming about Ian Doyle, because it seemed natural after what happened. But then I tried to imagine why Emily would be so upset about a nightmare and decided that *just* dreaming about Doyle wouldn't be enough to throw her completely off balance. Therefore I came up with the idea that it's Hotch she dreams about. I hope you liked this little twist. When you read the next chapter, that will hopefully be online in 1-2 days, it will be explained why it's Hotch she dreams about, and I hope it will make as much sense to you as it makes to me.**

**That's it for now. I'm very happy if you still enjoy my story. Reviews make my day. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N (1): This story practically writes itself. I'm down to one chapter a day at the moment, and this is faster than I ever updated any other story before. But I don't want to break the spell and will go for it as long as it works. :)**

**More A/N at the end of the story**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.**

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><p>Hotch was in shock after he had heard Emily's admission that he is the one killing her in her nightmares. And Emily used that short moment of confusion to leave his place, practically flee from him and drive home.<p>

The next day she calls in sick. Something she has never done before. The team is worried, and Hotch is worried even more, but it is no option to tell anyone what happened. Her coat lies in his car. She forgot it on his couch during her hurried departure. Hotch calls her several times all day through, but she doesn't pick up the phone or call back. She even has deactivated her voicemail – something none of his team members is allowed to do, because he has to be able to reach anyone of them anytime – and he doesn't know whether this angers him or intensifies his worries.

_One __day_, he eventually decides. He will give her one day to recover.

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><p>There is no current case, so Hotch busies himself with paperwork. It's already dark outside when he finally calls it a day. He wants to see Jack at least for a little while before his son falls asleep.<p>

Hotch is the last one of the team to walk out of the bullpen. When the doors of the elevator open, he is greeted with an unexpected view. Emily is standing right in front of him, and obviously she is not as surprised to see him as he is to see her.

"Going home?" she asks noncommittally as if last night didn't happen and as if she didn't avoid him the whole day.

Hotch nods and steps into the elevator.

"Did you come here to talk?" It's a rhetorical question. Emily knows that at this late hour Hotch most likely is the only one left in the office. Therefore she came over on purpose.

"Yes," she states the obvious. Then she adds with uncertainty in her voice, "But maybe we should postpone it. This doesn't seem to be the best time. You want to go home to Jack."

Usually Hotch appreciates this – her ability to put her needs on the back burner, to take care for others first. Right now it frustrates him. They can't beat around the bush forever. He still can't believe that she dreams about him killing her.

"Emily, for God's sake, tell me what is going on with you," he gives vent to his anger. "We can talk on the way to my car."

She stares at him and then nods as if hereby giving herself permission to talk.

"I told you the worst part last night," she starts. "These dreams began when I came back to join the team. They... hit me completely unexpected." She doesn't look at him, and for once Hotch is thankful that the elevator is so damn slow. He doesn't want to interrupt her now.

"You know that I'm in therapy," she continues, just to amend hastily, "Of course, it doesn't influence my work." As if she has to defend her need for help when actually it was an order, Strauss' requirement for coming back to the BAU.

"Emily...," Hotch warns her sympathetically. She doesn't have to justify this. PTSD is an inherent danger of their job, therapy standard procedure in situations like she had to live through. But Emily Prentiss doesn't tolerate weakness when it comes to herself.

"I know," she responds. "I'm just saying...," her voice trails off as if she lost her train of thought, but Hotch knows better. She's stalling for time, doesn't want to tell him what she is about to say. She does it anyway. "So... I thought the therapy lessons would help; and when they didn't, I started taking sleeping pills, and they helped to suppress the dreams. But I can't allow myself to be dizzy when a case comes up in the middle of the night. Therefore I stopped taking them. And the nightmares came back, sometimes so bad...," her voice trails off again due to the painful memory. "Sometimes they are so bad that I can't handle them on my own," she finishes. No word about that it's him killing her. Just a random, unimportant fact.

The elevator stops and the doors open. There are not many cars in the parking lot at this hour anymore. Emily's car stands a few parking spaces away from Hotch's. Somehow the space between their cars is symbolic.

They step out of the elevator, and cold air hits them. Only now Hotch realizes that Emily wears no jacket. She doesn't seem to feel the cold though when she finally looks at him. The hurt in her eyes makes Hotch cringe. He feels a twinge of guilt. Hadn't he been so selfish and gone to see her in Paris, the dreams perhaps never would have happened. At least they wouldn't have the impact on her they now apparently have.

"I'm sorry," Hotch says, before he can think about it, and his voice echoes in the almost empty parking lot. He isn't sure what he is apologizing for, because as wrong as the timing might have been back then in Paris – he regrets nothing. Only that Emily has these disturbing nightmares. And profiler or not, he hasn't figured out yet why she has them, why he is the one killing her in her dreams.

Tears shimmer in her eyes. Aside from the day her old friend died, Hotch has never seen Emily cry. Then it dawns on him that she is waiting for him to say something else.

"Sorry for what?" she eventually asks when he doesn't add anything.

"Sorry for not asking you earlier what is going on, sorry for not noticing that you must have had a lack of sleep," he voices his thoughts as they come to his mind.

_Not __the __right __answer_ – that's what her facial expression tells him.

"I don't regret what happened between us in Paris... or here," he clarifies. "Just in case that's what you suspect."

Emily seems to be relieved, albeit it still doesn't seem to be the right answer.

"What else?" he gives in. "What else should I be sorry for? Tell me."

The tears in her eyes are still there, but they don't fall, and the change in her countenance announces that she is about to cork up her feelings. Emily turns around and walks to their cars. "You still have my coat," she says casually. "I suppose you brought it with you." Hotch didn't know that she would call in sick today, so he brought her coat to give it back to her in between without attracting attention to the fact that she left it in his apartment.

She walks fast and has almost reached his car when Hotch seizes her by her arm. Her look tells him that she expects a controversy, but he almost begs her, his voice soft and tender, "Tell me, Emily, please."

She swallows and gathers courage. "Isn't it obvious?" she asks him, and her voice is as cold as steel. "Everybody is talking about Ian Doyle and how he almost killed me. But the fact remains – he didn't." She takes a deep breath, seems to think about whether to say the next words to him or not. "You're the one killing me in my dreams, because you're the one who succeeded in killing me in real life. _You_ decided to fake my death. _You_ decided to separate me from the team, from _you_. I made a mistake when I decided to go after Doyle on my own. But you made a mistake too when you decided to let me die without even waiting until I was able to participate in this decision, without asking me what my choice would have been. You just – let me die..."

Hotch just stares at her speechless. It's so simple. The explanation. The reason for her nightmares. The guilt is back, and it's not only a slight twinge this time. He feels it with full force. Of course, he didn't decide on his own. There were other people involved, government agencies. It is expensive and complex to fake someone's death. However she is right. He should have involved her in this decision, should have asked her what she wanted. At least he should have tried. But he was so worried, so wild with fear because Doyle had almost killed her and would try it again for sure, that for once in his life Aaron Hotchner acted overhasty.

"I'm...," he can't get out the words and has to clear his throat. "I'm sorry for not involving you in this decision," he says and this time it is the right answer, although she still doesn't let the tears fall.

"Thank you," she whispers.

It was no automatic response. Hotch didn't just tell her what she wanted to hear. He means it. Back then he and JJ had to decide so quickly that they didn't have time to let feelings get in the way. But then Emily was gone. For good. And there was a chance that she wouldn't be back for years, maybe never. No-one knew how fast Ian Doyle would be caught. And it didn't take long and Hotch regretted his decision – deeply. But even if he wasn't able to handle it emotionally, rationally he knew that it was necessary. His visit in Paris was a consequence of this conflict. He _knew_ that Emily had to be considered dead as long as Ian Doyle was alive, his feelings told him though that he had to see her, _feel_ her, at least once. Selfish. Unprofessional. He did it anyway. And burdened her thereby with even more emotional baggage.

"I'm sorry," Hotch says again. Now that he said it once, it's as if he opened the way to his own suppressed feelings. In a quick move he pulls her into an embrace. Her body is cold without a jacket or a coat.

"Let me get your coat," he remembers, walks over the last meters to his car and gets the coat out. But when he tries to put it over her shoulders to warm her, she takes it off his hands and puts it over her arm.

"I think I should go," Emily states, and her words are somehow inappropriate. Didn't they just resolve everything?

"Why don't you come with me?" Hotch offers. "We could continue to talk when Jack is asleep." Now that the problem is out in the open, he doesn't want to get back to business as usual before they _really_ have talked about it. Not just this brief conversation.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Emily responds, and by now her distance irritates him. There is no more pain in her eyes, only acceptance and cold. "I talked to Dave on my way here, and he told me about your date with... I think he said her name is Beth. I don't want to mess up your life anymore than I already have."

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N (2): It was a last minute choice to bring Hotch's date into the play, but somehow I couldn't resist. It was too tempting to stir up the story as a result. The way Emily gets to know about Beth is slightly AU. Otherwise it wouldn't have fit into the plot. I don't think I spoil you too much when I tell you that she won't really be a part of the story. Just a little spice to heat up things between Emily and Hotch. **

**So, what do you think? Is it comprehensible that Emily dreams of Hotch killing her? It always bothered me that she never quarreled with the fact that other people decided to fake her death while she was unconscious and fighting for her life. And obviously Hotch was significantly involved in this decision. Well, maybe they'll approach this topic in 7x12, but somehow I doubt it...**

**As always thank you so much for the reviews and the alerts. A heartfelt thank you goes especially to those of you who reviewed multiple times: CSIFan4life, greengirl82, History05, HPforever-after and therealmrsedwardcullen2013. But, of course, every review is highly appreciated.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N at the end of the story**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.**

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><p>It is the second time in less than 24 hours that Emily Prentiss walked out on Aaron Hotchner. Once more her words distracted him for a moment that she used for her quick departure.<p>

_The __date._ He completely forgot about it. Dave knows that Hotch met Beth. And apparently he told Emily. Just a little gossip between colleagues. Rossi doesn't know about Paris or about the nights Emily knocked on Hotch's door. He didn't realize how bad an idea it was to tell Emily about Beth. Wrong time. Wrong person.

It had sounded like a good idea to date. Hotch feels that it's time for a new relationship. He will never forget Haley, but they divorced, and she is dead. Every time this thought crosses his mind, it hurts. And it will always hurt. However it's not any longer the sharp sting that he felt after she was killed. It's a nagging pain that will accompany him for the rest of his life. That's okay though. He is ready to move on. Therefore it was like a stroke of fate when Beth approached him in the park. A pretty, athletic and quick-witted brunette. They met once for some kind of bicycle competition and then never again.

A pretty, athletic and quick-witted brunette... Who was he trying to fool?

He dated Beth to test himself. To test how strong Emily's influence on him is. Whether it was possible for him to get involved with someone else and simply forget about her, if you want to put it that way. And maybe, just maybe, he also wanted to test how it would feel like to be with someone who isn't part of his dark world, who has no scars on body or soul. Perhaps he shouldn't have chosen exactly her type and sticked with his earlier preference for blondes.

As it was, the experiment failed, and he gave up on dating again before he even properly started.

But there still is this _thing_ between him and Emily. What they have, what they do, is nowhere near what you could consider regular dating. Quick avid sex, consuming passion, both times caused by a highly emotional situation, is anything but standard procedure for a first date. At least it isn't an ingredient of Hotch's usual repertoire. Then again with Emily things rarely are standard procedure. And as his failed experiment proved, her influence on him is unabated. Except that she doesn't know it, most likely thinks the opposite to be true after he rejected her at the beginning last night.

There is no way around it – Hotch has to see her, has to talk to her, has to explain. He isn't certain about the consequences. Deep inside he feels a longing that he suppressed for much too long, but he doesn't think about it now.

He drives home instead, puts his son to bed, reads to him and watches him fall asleep. He is lucky; Jessica agrees to stay for a few more hours. He doesn't have to explain anything. She is worth a mint. Without her help he wouldn't be able to reconcile raising Jack and doing his job.

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><p>Unlike him Emily doesn't open the door immediately. It takes a few minutes and several times of ringing. Hotch is positive that she saw him on the monitor and took her time on purpose, pondering on whether to let him in or not.<p>

With a noncommittal gesture she invites him in. It's a new apartment. He has never been here before, and for a brief moment he considers how it must have been for her – to come back to nothing, no home, no clothes, no furniture. Not even a real passport. She literally came back from the dead. It's no wonder that she dreams about being killed – _by__me_, he reminds himself. There is so much they never talked about. Too much.

Apparently he interrupted something. There is paper all over the table with her handwriting on it. He looks away deliberately, doesn't try to get a glimpse of what she wrote, doesn't want to invade her privacy when she hastily snatches the paper and puts it away.

"My therapist...," Emily explains rather reluctantly. "...thinks it's a good idea to write down my nightmares. That it will help me to come to terms with the reasons why I have them."

She avoids Hotch's eyes, doesn't know why he's here. Everything already has been said, hasn't it?

"Emily...," Hotch starts, but she raises a hand to interrupt him. He can nearly see her build a wall around herself, brick by brick, that closes him off.

"Please...," she says, and her voice is perfectly steady. "Let's forget about last night. I meant what I told you about being angry with you for making this decision for me, about my life. Even so I want to be part of the team, of the BAU, again. I'll be okay. Just give me some time." She looks at him and her gaze is unwavering and intense. "And thank you for apologizing. This means a lot to me."

_Let's __forget __about __last __night..._ Hotch almost has to laugh. How could he forget about that? And he highly doubts that she can – no matter what she says and no matter whether she's an expert on disguising her feelings. Let alone that he doesn't want to forget about last night or about anything that happened between them.

After Emily put the paper away, there is nothing she can fiddle with anymore, and despite her outward calm he senses that she is anxious. His eyes find hers and hold her gaze. His is just as unwavering and intense as hers minutes ago when she told him to forget about everything. Save that he tells her the opposite now.

"I will never forget about last night or the nights before," he says emphatically and watches the change in her face. Astonishment. Confusion. Realization.

But just when she opens her mouth to respond, his phone rings. Hotch looks at the display and frowns. This call couldn't have come at a more inconvenient time.

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N: Yes, I know. I'm a tease. Or rather Hotch is. I intended this to be the last chapter, but he told me that he had other plans in mind. And who am I to disagree with this handsome man?**

**I know that I told you before how this story practically writes itself and how I'm down to one chapter a day – well, I underestimated how much else besides writing there is still to do before the holidays start. So unfortunately the story won't be finished until then (as I expected it to be earlier). I hope you're not disappointed. I don't know whether I will be able to update between Christmas and New Year, but I promise that you won't have to wait too long until this baby will continue and is finished. **

**Anyway. I'm excited that you enjoy my story and can't thank you enough for your alerts and reviews. A heartfelt hug for all of you! Love you guys!**

**Merry Christmas **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N (1): Happy New Year everybody!**

**As announced I unfortunately didn't manage to update during the holidays, but this will change now, and I hope you're ready for the story to continue. The next chapters are almost done so that I should be able to update fairly quickly. **

**Perhaps this chapter is not exactly what you expect in terms of continuity. It will all make sense though, I promise. More explanations at the end of the story to avoid spoilers.**

**I'm still impressed by the number of story alerts. Thank you so much for your interest, your support and especially of course for your reviews.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.**

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><p>Their job is never routine, but on days like this Emily wishes that sometimes it was. Of course, this isn't possible. They all have to be highly vigilant all the time. Serial killers don't tend to be considerate just because one of them has a bad day and doesn't pay enough attention. When you work in an office, inattentiveness can get you fired; when you're in the field, it can get you killed. Despite the danger and the risks Emily loves her job though. They all do. Otherwise none of them would be able to do what they do each and every single day. But with another job there would be the advantage of a routine that would allow her to let her thoughts wander. Then she would be able to think about this brief moment of realization when Hotch told her that he doesn't want to forget what happened between them just before his phone rang.<p>

The caller wasn't Beth as she had expected. It was Garcia informing them that a new urgent case had come up. A series of missing children had currently turned into a serial murder because the first bodies had been found. When kids were involved, it was the worst. One little girl still was missing, and if the killer stuck to the time schedule, she had less than 24 hours left to live. They had to take the jet right away, in the middle of the night, to be at the crime scene in the morning and start the investigation. The clock was ticking.

When Emily realized that the caller wasn't Hotch's date but Garcia, she wasted no time and went for her ready bag, sensing Hotch standing in her apartment, apparently uncertain what to do. Bad timing. The story of their lives. She wanted to talk to him, was eager to hear what he obviously had to say, but it wasn't the right time, and in a way she appreciated the delay. Emily still hadn't come to terms with Dave's revelation that Hotch had had a date, didn't know what to make of this. The fact that he didn't want to forget about what happened between them didn't necessarily mean that he wanted to resume it. Perhaps he just wanted a clean cut in order to begin anew.

Eventually Hotch turned reluctantly around to leave, mumbling something about meeting at the airport. Only when he almost was out of the door, he turned around again and looked at her. "We have to continue this discussion. I _need_ to continue it," Hotch said with a seriousness and emphasis that made her shiver. Perhaps she was wrong assuming that he just wanted a clean cut. If wishes were horses...

"As soon as this case is over," he added. "Forbearance is not acquittance. And no excuses or delaying tactics." Hotch chose his words carefully, almost as if by speaking his mind aloud, he wanted to compel himself to act upon them. His eyes met hers and with anybody else Emily would have been able to read at least something in them but not with him, never with him.

She didn't know what to respond, and fortunately he didn't seem to expect an answer either when he finally walked out of her door.

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><p>So here they are on a bright sunny day that tries to cover the cruelties of the world with its beauty, scanning the neighborhood for the one residence that resembles the anonymous but nonetheless believable hint. They are running out of time and have to take advantage even of the slightest chance that they will find the missing child there.<p>

When they detect the old mansion, it takes them less than a minute to regroup and enter the building. As usual they go in in pairs. They benefit from JJ also being a profiler now so that no-one has to go in alone. This time Hotch sends in JJ with Reid and Morgan with Rossi, what leaves Emily with him. His choice surprises her. She rather expected him to keep her at arms length until this case is over and they can finish their discussion.

There is no time though to think about it when they enter the building through the back door. Even after all these years the pulse still quickens, the heart rate still goes up. The body is in defensive mode and wants to flee albeit what they do is the opposite – dive head first right into the middle of a dangerous and potentially life-threatening situation.

Despite the warm day and the sunlight illuminating the rooms, they know instantly that something is wrong. The house seems to be uninhabited and has an eerie chill. But it is something else that forces the air out of Emily's lungs. This mansion is just like the one in her nightmares. No furniture, no inhabitants – and yet there is no way to deny that evil lives here.

Emily inhales sharply, and Hotch shoots a concerned glance at her.

"It's nothing," she whispers, anxious not to make a sound. When he obviously isn't satisfied with this non-explanation, she feels compelled to add, "This house just... reminds me of the one in my dreams."

Now his look _really_ is concerned, and in a way Emily understands it. She shouldn't have told him that. This building is exactly like hundreds, probably thousands, others. There is no reason for her to be reminded of her nightmare. And yet she is and knows at the same time very well that she can't risk to be distracted. For her own sake and for the sake of her colleagues.

"If you're not up to this...," Hotch starts in a hushed voice, but she cuts him off with a gesture that is supposed to assure him that she is fine and that, genuinely, this is nothing to worry about, nothing she can't handle.

He nods because as concerned as he might be, he trusts her. And when she tells him that she can handle it, there is no reason for him not to believe her. She might have a tendency to endanger her own life, but she would never endanger the lives of her colleagues. As much she has already proven.

Hotch and Emily sneak through the empty rooms. They are not able to hear or see the others. Morgan and Rossi search the rooms at the other end of the building; JJ and Reid are in the backyard. They have almost checked all the rooms in this part of the house when they discover a door that most likely leads to the basement. It's always the basement. At least with serial killers. Bright sunlight usually just isn't their taste as the fitting scenario for a murder. It has to be dark and creepy.

Suddenly there is an uproar in the backyard.

"Hotch, we need you here. There is possibly more than one unsub." JJ's voice by radio.

Morgan and Rossi must already be close. It is the logical decision that they divide their forces in half and Emily stays with them inside to continue the search. Nonetheless Hotch is hesitant to leave her, and this has nothing to do with logic. He simply has a bad feeling about it, and that is something that never happened to him before.

_Focus_, he reprimands himself. _Just because this mansion resembles the one in her nightmares, doesn't mean that something will happen to her._

"I'll check the other rooms and wait for Morgan and Rossi before I go into the basement," Emily calms him down, apparently having guessed what his apprehension is, and with a last look at her and a brief nod Hotch hurries outside.

"Hey Morgan," Emily addresses him by radio. "Where are you and Rossi? There is a basement and I need you to cover my ass before I go down there." She looks at the door that leads to the basement. It's not only a rule applying to bad horror movies not to go into the dark and deserted basement alone. This rule also applies to real life. Go down there alone, without back-up, and you're more likely to die.

"We're almost there," Morgan immediately answers. "And I'm glad to cover your ass any time."

Emily still smiles at his comment when she starts to make her way through the rooms they didn't check yet. Fine dust swirls in the air, but that's all there is. There's nothing else to be found. No unsub. No missing child. The rooms are all empty, however the eerie feeling lingers and is eventually confirmed by a muffled cry, possibly from a child, possibly coming out of the basement. It's an old building, and it could only be a creaking wood paneling. But then Emily hears it again, and her reflexes know that this is the sound of a child in danger before her mind is able to process the thought. She pulls out her gun and rushes to the door.

"Morgan," she whispers into her wrist mike. "I think there is a child in the basement. I'm going down there now."

They always wait for back-up, never go into a dangerous situation alone. There is only one exception. If the victim is in acute mortal danger, everyone of them decides for him- or herself. A decision that has to be made in the split of a second. Act too fast and you might die – hesitate too long and the victim might not make it.

"Coming over. Wait for us if you can," Morgan's response is prompt right when Emily hears the miserable whimper again. There is no time left, she decides, and lets her instinct take over. She can't wait any longer.

"Going into the basement now. Hurry," are her last words to Morgan before she opens the door.

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N (2): I wasn't sure how to continue after the last chapter, and suddenly it occurred to me that I didn't touch the subject yet how what happened between them influences them when they're in the field. Don't worry. I didn't forget about Beth, but it's only one piece of the puzzle that is their complex relationship.**

**Hope you're still in for the ride. Thank you for leaving a review if you find the time (and I hope you do). :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N at the end of the story**

**A heartfelt thank you to those of you who reviewed the last chapter: SunnyFreckles, everyday i'm shuffiling, Rugbygirll, greengirl82, CSIFan4Life, History05. Most of you reviewed multiple times already or even every chapter, and this is so great and means so much to me! Since I unfortunately didn't find the time to respond to each one of you individually, let me thank you at least in this way.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.**

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><p>Emily opens the door to the basement and is greeted with an impenetrable darkness. A ramshackle wooden stairs leads downwards. Just as in her nightmare. Only that she walks down the stairs now, doesn't run away from the possible threat but walks right into it.<p>

It is damp and the ground is bumpy. Something you would expect in any basement. Nonetheless Emily can't help being reminded of her nightmare, and her already weak nerves are stretched to the breaking point. There is enough light shining through a half nailed up cellar window that she can make out a mattress in one of the corners. At first it looks as if a wadded blanket lies on top of it. But then Emily realizes that the alleged blanket is a child, curled up in a ball. She recognizes a rumpled dress and ruffled long blond hair. The girl is probably seven or eight years old and most likely, hopefully, the missing child they are looking for. Gender and age fit. In any case it is a child that needs help. The girl is crying and whimpering, heartbreaking and desperate sounds. Apparently she has shut out her surroundings completely because she doesn't react when Emily puts her gun back into the holster, kneels down and touches her carefully. Where are Morgan and Rossi? The child has to be brought to safety as soon as possible, and she can't carry the girl and defend herself against an unsub – if necessary – at the same time.

Emily checked the basement before she approached the child. Of course she did. The basement consists of only one room. There is no-one here except for her and the child. No furniture, no possible hiding place, no unsub. It's a moment like this they all fear the most. An attack that comes out of nowhere with no chance to defend yourself because you feel safe. Emily senses something behind her. Her body reacts, her flesh crawls, but it's already too late. The blow to her head almost knocks her unconscious. She finds herself on the ground and tastes blood and dust. The child whimpers louder but hasn't moved otherwise, still trying to shut out the surroundings and what happens as effectively as possible. Emily feels for her gun when the unsub rolls her over on to her back and presses her to the ground with his body. She fights back, manages somehow to knee him in the guts, only to receive a punch in the face in return. The unsub is a tall and heavy man. When he presses her down again, his sheer weight is enough to immobilize her. As long as she has no room to move, she doesn't stand a chance against him.

The world reduces to her gasps, the disgusting smell of the unsub and the crying child in the background. _The little girl._ She has to save the girl. But just when Emily thinks that she might have found a way to free one of her arms, the unsub starts to choke her. It doesn't matter anymore that one of her arms is free now. She can pull at his hands as much as she wants, he only increases the pressure, and the dread that she is getting strangled to death, that her nightmare somehow has found a way to become this cruel reality, brings her to the verge of panic. When she begins to feel dizzy, Emily knows that she is drifting towards unconsciousness.

_Not like this_, she begs silently. _Don't let it end like this. _

And it doesn't. Suddenly the weight of the unsub is lifted from her body, and the hands around her neck stop choking her. When her lungs frantically gasp for air, she falls into a fit of coughing and only notices vaguely that Morgan and Rossi are in the basement with her. Morgan has overwhelmed the unsub and just cuffs him, while Rossi is bending over her, checking her injuries and trying to help her stand up.

"Is she okay? Rossi?" Morgan is rapidly firing concerned questions at his colleague, trying to catch a glimpse of Emily. He is visibly shaken. The sight when he entered the basement reminded him of another moment, of another basement where he found Emily dying on the floor. Today he was able to save her, but the turmoil of emotions still lingers. The fear. The relief.

"She'll need a little more make-up the next days; otherwise she seems to be fine," Rossi answers jokingly although his gentle eyes reflect the same emotions Morgan has.

Emily can't speak yet, but at least her breathing slowly is getting back to normal, and the pulsation in her ears is fading away so that she can hear again. She must have been closer to unconsciousness than she thought because when she finally has managed to stand up with Rossi's help, she is weakened and trembling.

Now that the unsub is overpowered and bound, they can fully concentrate on bringing the child and Emily to safety. Rossi gives Morgan the advantage to take care of Emily and turns towards the child that is almost in a catatonic state. The whimpering has stopped and it lies completely still, a soft breathing the only sign of life.

The wooden stairs creak when Hotch, JJ and Reid hurry downstairs. Morgan informed them that Prentiss heard a child cry and went looking for it in the basement. There was no second unsub in the backyard. It was a false trail, a diversionary maneuver to split up the team. A trap that almost cost Emily her life.

Hotch takes in the surroundings. Dave cowers beside the child that obviously needs medical attention but lives, thank God. Morgan upholds Emily who can barely stand and obviously took some blows to her head and face in addition to the bruises around her neck that contrast strongly with her pale skin. The bastard tried to choke her – the moment Hotch realizes this, he struggles to keep his cool. Emily was right about the mansion reminding her of the one in her nightmares. And he was right about not wanting to leave her alone. She could be dead by now.

He has to do something to keep his mind busy; otherwise he will snap. Therefore he looks around once more and discerns that the room is open. So how was the unsub able to overwhelm her? Prentiss – and now he thinks of her only as one of his agents – had a gun and is well-trained in close combat. The only plausible explanation being that she was so distracted by the memories of her nightmares that she simply didn't pay enough attention. A mistake that almost got her killed.

Anger. Hotch knows that his feelings are going haywire, but he can't help it. In a way he welcomes the anger because it's better than to feel helpless and desperate – the way he felt when he had to bury his wife and when he had to decide about faking Emily's death. He already lost two women – and somehow he counts Emily's time away in Europe as a personal loss in spite of the fact that she is back now. The scars are too deep. He can't deal with the same situation again. He just can't. And someone has to pay for it.

"The basement is pretty open," Hotch starts to speak, and his voice is a low growl that makes the team listen attentively. What is going on? "So how could the unsub overwhelm her?" He addresses Morgan and Rossi who were the first ones to arrive at the scene. Anywhere, Hotch looks anywhere but at Emily.

"Well, Hotch…," Morgan begins a response, looking at Emily and then back at Hotch, wondering why he didn't address her directly. And obviously Emily wonders the same because she tries to speak, but only an awkward cawing leaves her mouth. She can barely swallow, and obviously talking isn't even remotely possible at the moment. Her attempt to speak catches his attention anyway despite his strained efforts to ignore her.

Hotch steps closer and is face to face now with Emily. "How could you let this happen?" he asks. "How could you let yourself be so distracted?" A rhetorical question. He already has made up his mind. It was her fault.

Emily stares at him in disbelief, and the other team members are no less irritated. Hotch can be a bully sometimes and doesn't hesitate to reprimand one of them if necessary, but this never happened before. He doesn't accuse one of them in a situation like this when the damage already has been done.

Again Emily tries to speak, however her throat just won't allow it. It hurts like hell, and she starts to feel dizzy again.

"Hotch," Morgan intervenes and directs the attention of his Unit Chief away from Emily and to himself. "There is a secret passage." He gestures towards the other side of the basement where a chink of light is the only indication that there is another hidden entrance. Some of the old mansions still have them although most of the inhabitants don't even know it. Apparently the door of the passage didn't close completely after the unsub sneaked in. Rossi and Morgan detected it at a second glance and only because of the beam of light. Without it the entrance integrates so well into the structure of the wall that it is impossible to discover for someone who doesn't know about it.

"Prentiss will tell you for sure about it herself when she is able to speak again. But I bet everything that he sneaked in here through this passageway and that she had no chance to see him when she checked the basement." Morgan barely hides his anger. He still has an issue with Hotch withholding the information that Emily was alive the whole time, and every simple disagreement has the potential to become an argument. They are all running on adrenaline, and Rossi almost expects a fight shouldn't Hotch back down.

Morgan feels Emily move beside him and realizes that she tries to speak again. Hotch realizes it too. Just when they both look at her, her body goes limp and she faints. Immediately Hotch jumps forward, but Morgan already caught her.

"It's okay, I got her," he hisses at Hotch, leaving no doubt who is to blame.

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N: Yes, I know. Hotch behaves pretty much like an ass in this chapter, but I re-watched 100 recently and was overwhelmed by his strong emotions. That made me remember that he not always was this withdrawn character and that he is capable of the whole range of feelings. And that includes _wrong_ feelings just as in this chapter so that he makes mistakes. I might stretch the limits of staying in character, but somehow I need Hotch to be a little more human in this story. **

**I'm not exactly satisfied with the cliffhanger; however content wise it makes sense to split the chapters at this point of the story. **

**A little spoiler: In the next chapter Beth will be a subject. Told you I wouldn't forget about her... :) Chapter should be up in 1-2 days. I won't make you wait long.**

**In the meantime make me happy – leave a review ! Thanks !**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N at the end of the story**

**Thank you so much for the alerts and the reviews! This chapter is for you – Happy Birthday EmmaBerlin ! **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.**

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><p>Morgan isn't exactly pleased that Hotch wants to drive alone with Emily from the hospital to the airport.<p>

She regained consciousness fairly quickly after she had fainted. Since her head wounds needed medical treatment anyway, she was taken to the next hospital by the paramedics that had been called in and thoroughly examined despite her constant reassurance that she was fine.

It's understandable that Hotch wants to use the time on the way to the airport to smooth things over before they are all on the jet with its usual lack of privacy. Morgan saw the devastation in Hotch's face after Emily had fainted and dropped to the ground like a stone. The cause for her blackout most likely was an inadequate oxygen feed due to her desperate and futile efforts to speak, and for the simple reason that Hotch caused these efforts with his unfounded accusations, he has every reason to feel guilty – and to make it up to her.

Morgan understands all that; however he doesn't have to like it.

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><p>If Emily is surprised that it's only Hotch and her in the SUV, she doesn't let it show. Instead she gets into the car with Morgan's help and sinks into the passenger seat with a faint groan. Her whole body hurts after the brutal attack, let alone her head wound and the bruises in her face that are colorful already.<p>

Hotch heard her talking to Morgan on her way to the car. Therefore her throat apparently has regenerated at least a little. After they have driven off, he waits several minutes to give her a chance to say something. When she doesn't volunteer a conversational gambit, he eventually does.

"Is your throat doing better? I heard you talk to Morgan," Hotch says. Anything to break the silence that is starting to get uncomfortable.

"Yes, it's better," Emily responds, and her voice, even if still scratchy and rough, almost sounds normal again. She doesn't look at him though, and her body language signals a rather dismissive attitude towards him.

"How's the little girl?" she adds after all, and in spite of the obvious and sudden change of subject Hotch has to smile. That's her – always concerned about others, especially children. Hence he's happy to answer the question.

"She is neglected but otherwise physically unharmed. Her parents are with her now, and with the help of a psychologist she hopefully will be fine again."

The unsub confessed so that they are able to fly back that soon. Case closed in less than one day. That's a rarity – even for them.

When it becomes clear that Emily won't offer anything else, Hotch decides that it's the right time for his apology. No need to delay it any further. He has to apologize to her for his earlier behavior at the crime scene.

"Look, Emily," he starts, but she interrupts him.

"Don't," she says feebly. "If you intend to apologize, just don't. I can't do this right now."

She still doesn't look at him, and Hotch realizes how disappointed she is that he treated her wrongfully to such an extent. This is nothing a quick apology can repair. It goes way deeper.

By now it is after sundown, and the night descends. The car is like a cocoon protecting them against the outside world. Suddenly Hotch wishes that it could always be like that. Just him and her.

"Okay, so I won't apologize," he seemingly agrees. "But I want you to know..."

"Hotch." This time she looks at him, and her exhaustion threatens to turn into anger. "I said _not now_, please..." The last word is added to soften her harsh tone of voice. She is nervously picking at her already non-existent nails, and her eyes are dark with emotion. It's a lot she has to come to terms with. Building a new life after she literally came back from the dead. The behavior of her colleagues and friends that ranges from overprotective to suspicious. Coping with nightmares. And at long last – a Unit Chief who hunted her up in Europe to make passionate love to her on one day and rejected her the next when she reached out for help. It's hardly surprising that she isn't interested in helping him to ease his conscience.

And in the first place that's what it was – Hotch only wanted to apologize to her, to ease his conscience and smooth things over. But the special atmosphere, just the two of them driving through the night together, somehow opens a door deep inside of him. He still wants to tell her that he is sorry, about everything. However even more he wants her to understand.

"This is exactly why I dated Beth," Hotch says before he can change his mind and make a retreat. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Emily stare at him speechlessly. "I knew that...," he pauses. "...being closer to you would make it more difficult for us to interact in the field. Much more difficult. At least for me."

"Difficult?" Emily finds her tongue and apparently found anger along with it. "As in unjustified accusations? I don't see how one thing has to have an effect on the other. I don't see how... being closer to me forced you to act so unprofessionally. You could have just _asked_ me what happened."

"Really? You don't see it?" Hotch is getting angry too. It's a good feeling actually. Better than guilt or the subdued emotions of this gray area they live in. "Well, then take a closer look. You're a goddamn profiler, Emily. I lost my wife because of Foyet, an unsub. I had to decide about faking your death because of Doyle, not an unsub in the proper sense but even so. Just because I never talk about it, doesn't mean that I'm not scarred for life. In a way we all are but you and me most of all, you know that damn well. And even apart from all that you're not very cautious in the field. I don't mean you're reckless," Hotch adds when he notices that she takes a deep breath to contradict him. "But you and Morgan are the fighters of the team. We all are capable, but Morgan and you... like it. You _like_ to kick in doors, to take the unsub in. And every time I ask myself if this is it, if something will happen to you. So it's much easier for me to believe that you made a mistake and that's why the unsub was able to overwhelm you, than to admit that you did everything properly because that means that all our skills and precautions are meaningless and that I might lose you anyway one day." His hands grip the wheel with more force than necessary. Hotch is not used to spill his guts; albeit he feels relieved. To speak his mind aloud has lifted a burden from his soul.

It never even occurred to her. That he could be scared of losing her in the field. That he is shying away from a relationship due to various reasons, fraternization rules being one of them, yes, but not the simplest explanation. That she means too much to him. He accused her of being distracted by her nightmares when it was him who was distracted by his fear of losing her. Funny that she doesn't have this fear. Hotch always was there, always is there. He survived Foyet. In her world he is invincible. Invincible and beyond her reach – or maybe not anymore. Then it dawns on her. Just because Hotch feels something for her, doesn't mean he wants to be with her if it's too complicated.

"So you dated because... it was easier with someone outside of the bureau, someone who doesn't put herself in the line of fire every day," Emily states warily and sees Hotch nod in response. "And... did it work?" She curses herself the moment the words are out. She didn't want to ask about his date, swore to herself that she would handle it professionally with a cool detachment.

Hotch snorts, "Come on, Emily. What does it look like to you?"

The painkillers start to operate. Emily gets more and more drowsy and has to fight to keep her eyes open. "Do you still don't know it, Hotch?" she answers sleepily. "I might be a profiler, but I can't read you. The best I can tell you is that you obey the rules and that you are willing to make sacrifices for it, even personal ones. Therefore I'd guess that if in your opinion things are really that complicated between us, you'd somehow make your date work. You'd somehow manage to find a solution and forget about me." She swallows. "No matter how much it hurts. Case closed."

She is right. He thought about that. He even tried it, but contrary to her assumption it didn't work. And that scares him because for once he has to acknowledge to himself that things are beyond his control. And perhaps it all went too far already, perhaps he hurt Emily so deeply with his illogical behavior that his decision and what he wants have become irrelevant components, perhaps there is already a damage beyond repair.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbles. It doesn't matter what she told him. He has to say it. "I never meant to hurt you." Hotch reaches out and touches Emily's shoulder gently. She finally closes her eyes, relaxes under his touch and gives in to her fatigue despite the weird circumstances. Why can't it be that easy? But _easy_ is a term that couldn't be further afar when it comes to their relationship.

They have reached the airport. Their time is up and yet nothing is resolved.

"I'm not interested in dating other women." Hotch suddenly feels the need to ascertain this beyond doubt. "I don't know how we can make it work, but that's what I want. That's _all_ I want."

Emily opens her eyes, but when she looks at him again, his heart sinks.

"I don't know what you want, Hotch," she says with an astonishing clarity, considering that the painkillers are about to knock her out. "For crying out loud, I don't even know what I want anymore. Maybe you're right, and we should back off."

"What do I have to do?" Hotch stays calm and composed when he rather wants to grab her shoulders and shake the doubt out of her. He is in no position to make any demands. Yet, that he has made up his mind, he can't wait to convince her that this is the right thing to do. Not easy, never easy, but still the right thing.

His phone rings, and he expects it to be one of the other team members. When he recognizes the number though, his facial expression freezes. And for once Emily is able to read him. It's Beth.

"Speaking of the devil...," she mutters sarcastically and reaches for the door to get out of the car just when Hotch puts the phone away and refuses to accept the call. "I told you I'm not interested in other women," he repeats. "So tell me what I have to do to make this work."

"More than this," Emily answers flatly and gets out of the car.

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N: Oh dear! Those two just can't get together! It's killing me (and probably you too). No, seriously. I'm not stalling for time – this is how I think they would behave. They are both interesting but at the same time complicated characters, emotional but always trying to be self-controlled, definitely drawn to each other but reconsidering every move and its consequences.**

**Therefore I hope Hotch eventually manages to give her _more than this_ in one of the next chapters. :)**

**I'd really appreciate it if you left a review to let me know what you think. Thanks.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N at the end of the story**

**As usual let me say thank you for your alerts and reviews. This story has by now the highest number of alerts I've ever received for a story, and that's incredible (jumps up and down excited!). **

**Your reviews, of course, make me even happier. And that goes equally for those of you who are my constant and review repeatedly if not every chapter (I rely on you, really) as for the number of new names among the reviews for the last chapter. Since I can't thank those of you via PM who reviewed without an account, let me thank you devikasharma1102, duluo, Lindy and Adry this way.**

**And here we go...**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven. **

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><p><em>More than this...<em>

Well, Hotch would love to do more, provided Emily lets him. And lately there is not the slightest hint that she will.

She behaves completely ordinarily towards the other team members. Morgan's best buddy. Reid's older sister. JJ's and Garcia's friend. Rossi's confident. And in a way she also behaves semi-normally towards him. Just the professional agent doing her job. Nothing more but nothing less either, giving him no reason to complain job wise. Yet the tension between them is palpable. The team traces it rightly back to what happened in the basement, hoping that they will find a way to work it out or that simply time will heal. _Wrongly_ hoping as it is.

Thinking about it, there were few times over the years when they were more than this, more than a Unit Chief and one of his agents. Emily needed help when her friend died as the consequence of an exorcism. At first Hotch offered it willingly, only to back off when politics got in the way. Rossi for sure was more support for her back then than him or even Morgan. She is right to hate politics. Or the one time when he took her to the maximum security unit to interrogate the Fox. He knew very well that the inmate would be more than pleased to see her, to talk to her and indulge her in his fantasies. He condoned the obvious discomfort it caused her. Just a sideshow. He as a matter of fact encouraged Emily to flirt with the Fox. Not with these exact words, but she understood what he meant, what he needed from her, and did not hesitate to give it to him despite her own reservations. He however never asked her how she felt, whether she was okay. Not after Matthew's death, not after the Fox, not even after Reid and she were held hostage on the compound, and she was beaten up badly, or after Doyle, the shadow from her past, tried to kill her. Just never.

In fact it was the other way round. After New York, after Foyet, she was the one who took care of him unobtrusively. Knowing him, she still kept the distance, granted him the space he needed, simply let him know that she was there. Why has he never seen it before so clearly? Hotch only hopes that it's not too late to make it up to her.

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><p>The weeks pass by, and Hotch has no chance to break through the invisible protective shield that is hovering around her. Emily makes sure that she is never alone with him, never the last one in the bullpen or to exit the jet. She doesn't pick up the phone when he calls her at home during after hours. Other than being a member of his team, she has become invisible and above all inaccessible – at least when it comes to him. The only thing he didn't try yet is knocking on her door unexpected, but somehow this seems to be too desperate and too blunt. That's not <em>more than this<em>, that's too much. If Hotch knows one thing, then it is that their past strategy didn't work out well. Accelerating from zero to hundred and decelerating abruptly again apparently wasn't the best idea. Actually it completely backfired. They need to make one step at a time.

They arrive at the airport after another case is finished, and of course Emily heads out of the jet with the others. When Hotch grabs his bag, Rossi addresses him.

"Any news on the dating front?" he asks with a mischievous smile.

"Nothing worth a news break," Hotch answers, trying to match his light-hearted tone of voice. "I'm not seeing Beth anymore," he adds. No need to beat around the bush. Not with Dave.

Rossi ponders on this for a brief moment. "Perhaps you were too distracted to enjoy the distraction," he then says cryptically, albeit Hotch understands immediately what he's implying. Dave is not a know-it-all, he simply knows it all. How the hell he manages this, Hotch hasn't found out yet, but if there's one thing he is envious of Rossi about then it's his insight into human nature, even if this includes more insight into himself than he sometimes is comfortable with.

Hotch only smiles with restraint. It's enough though to tell Rossi that his assumption was right.

"You know," Dave says thoughtfully. "A wise woman told me not so long ago that you don't always get a second chance." He pauses, remembering his discussion with Emily, his hope for a reunion with his ex wife that was shattered painfully by her confession that she was terminally ill. Bottom line however Emily is right. If life offers a second chance, take it.

Hotch doesn't know that he is talking about Emily, but when Rossi continues to speak, it becomes clear to him. "This wise woman is a brunette we both know and who definitely has that certain something that is needed to distract a man in the best possible way."

Second chances. Eventually that's all it comes down to. Hotch was almost killed and lost the love of his life. And Emily... in a way the same happened to her. So a second chance is what they both need. Badly.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind," Hotch responds seriously before they head out of the now empty jet into the cold night.

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><p>Two more weeks pass by, and Hotch is short of taking desperate measures to get Emily's attention. Rossi's words are stuck in his mind. He wants a second chance with her, and in spite of her dismissive behavior he hopes that she wants it too.<p>

Therefore Hotch is happy, bordering on excitement, when he spots her in his favorite coffee shop on a Saturday morning. They have the weekend off, and he made the most of the sunny morning and took a jog in the park, hoping that he wouldn't meet Beth. He didn't, and now there's Emily. Must be his lucky day.

"What a coincidence," he says, trying to keep his cool, just when he notices that she holds two cups of coffee in her hands.

"Or not," she answers drily, handing over one cup. Apparently she has been waiting for him.

"I thought you quit caffeine," Hotch notes, glad to have found a topic to start their discussion other than the nagging question as to why she's here.

"My doctor gave me the go-ahead for a cup now and then," she responds with a slight smile. Obviously her ulcer is getting better. "It's difficult to quit an addiction."

Something changes in her eyes when she says this, as if she's not talking about the coffee anymore but about them, as if he she's feeling drawn to him against her will. Hotch senses danger ahead. He is afraid that their talk might take a wrong direction and tells her the first thing that comes to his mind, the first thing that came to his mind when he saw her. "This is my second chance."

Emily looks at him with an almost painful expression in her face. "What do you mean?" she eventually asks.

"That one should not take it for granted when life offers a second chance. And I don't intend to throw my second chance away." For a brief moment he considered saying _our second chance_ but shied away from it at the last moment.

Emily watches him warily, perhaps suspecting that he talked to Rossi. The similarities are a little too obvious.

"Dave said, and I quote, that _a wise woman_ told him that not long ago," Hotch confirms her assumption.

At that she smiles, nipping at her coffee. "Well, wise friends that man has," she says teasingly, only to become serious again straightaway. "Hotch, actually I came here to talk to you." The sadness in her face ruins Hotch's good, even if wary, mood.

"I'm sorry that I kind of... ignored you," she apologizes, but he senses that this is not what she came here for.

"Apology accepted," he says hastily nonetheless, clinging to the slim hope that perhaps he is wrong, perhaps that's all she came here for. And her next words raise his hopes.

"I was so... confused and uncertain what to do that I needed time." Emily fumbles with her cup of coffee. They are standing in a corner of the coffee shop. Actually it's his favorite spot – right at the window so that they have a good look at the park. None of them has an eye for the beauty of nature though. Hotch stares at her and Emily stares anywhere but at him.

He doesn't want to ask her, but her introduction leaves him no other choice, and frankly he has to know it, it will kill him otherwise. "And now? Are you still uncertain?"

Their eyes meet. By now Hotch is used to the fact that her gaze sets his teeth on edge. Today however it's as if her eyes have the power to burn him alive. They flicker with a rawness and an intensity that almost scare him.

"What happened?" he asks because the only explanation for her obvious emotional turmoil is that something happened. And suddenly Rossi comes to his mind and the terrible fate of his ex wife that prevented a second chance and exposed him to death and grief instead. "Are you okay?" Hotch grabs her arm, and she looks at him confused. So no horrible news about an incurable illness, Hotch decides relieved.

"I'm...," she starts, then stops and takes a deep breath. "I don't know how to say it so I'll just say it – I had a date."

For the split of a second Hotch thinks that she is joking. But her serious expression convinces him of the contrary. She really had a date.

"When?" he asks curiously because it's the first thing that comes to his mind.

"When?" she repeats, by now somewhat irritated by his unexpected questions.

"Sorry, um, I meant, sorry,...," he rambles, dumbfounded and embarrassed. She didn't come here to be his second chance. She came here to tell him that it's over before it even began.

"Don't be," Emily says, obviously uncomfortable with his uncomfortableness. "I just thought that it might be a good idea since you did it too. I gave your explanation that being closer to each other could endanger us in the field a second thought, and I think you're right."

Oh my God! Here she is, feeding him with the exact information he gave to her as to why he dated. One could almost say that he encouraged her to give it a try.

"So... what happened to _more than this_?" Hotch asks when he eventually has gathered himself.

"Hotch...," Emily sounds as if she is in physical pain.

"Okay..." He takes a deep breath and puts the coffee down on the table to run his fingers through his hair that is still a little sweaty because of his run. "So what does that mean?" Now that he has accepted that this apparently is their break-up talk, he doesn't want to prolong it unnecessarily. Hotch already feels the approaching pain. Like undergoing surgery without the proper narcotics. "I mean... Is it something serious? Since you're here to tell me about it, it must be."

"I didn't know about Beth before Rossi told me," Emily says quietly. "You didn't tell me whether it was something serious, you didn't tell me anything at all." Her tone of voice is not accusatory, nonetheless her words are, and in a way she's right. He should have told her. But more generally speaking since it's not as if there was anything to tell. He met Beth once in the park to have a bicycle race. It sounds almost childish now that he thinks of it. Certainly nothing Emily should have been worried about. And certainly not the kind of date she had. He imagines her in a bar, laughing, drinking and... he has to stop the mental picture at this point. The upcoming images are too painful.

"There's nothing...," Hotch starts and wishes that he was able to speak at least one damn coherent sentence. He can't remember the last time he was that upset, confused and on the verge of an unbearable sadness. This can't be the end.

"Do you really think I would have...," he starts anew, only to hesitate again. _Come on, Hotchner, get a grip,_ he reprimands himself. "Do you really think I would have let _us_ happen if I was involved with another woman?"

Emily looks at him intensely and then shakes her head. "No," she admits. "You wouldn't have."

Relief overwhelms Hotch. Perhaps they still have a chance. Maybe she thought that he slept with Beth and will reconsider her decision now that she knows the truth. Suddenly he feels the need to tell her explicitly, to extinguish even the slightest doubt she might have.

"I didn't sleep with someone else," he states.

Emily nips at her coffee again, stalling for time, before she looks at him. Her eyes are even darker than usual. Nevertheless Hotch is in no way prepared for what she says next.

"What if I did?" she whispers.

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N: Phew! I know. That's awful. If it's true. So what do you think? Did Emily have sex with someone else or not? Or why did she ask this? And don't ask me because I have no idea yet. I wrote the chapter and – bang – there it was. And now I have to cope with that and find a solution for the mess they made. :)**

**Don't be afraid. I'm not going to freak out. And I'm not going to break our favorite couple apart. I can assure you that much. Despite the complications this story is supposed to have a happy ending. I don't think I spoil you too much when I tell you this because after that line you might need a little reassurance. Just a little fun I'm having because I love all the angst. And I hope you love it too because there's nothing better than make up sex (okay, now _that_ might have been a spoiler, lol).**

**So I hope you don't hate me and stick with the story to find out what happens next.**

**And please leave a review (if you don't hate me that is). :) **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N at the end of the story**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.**

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><p><em>My office...<em>

These are the first words that come to Hotch's minds after her, well, confession. No, actually it wasn't a confession. It was a question. _What if..._ But it doesn't feel like a question. It feels like a bullet that went straight through his skin and exploded in his heart. He isn't able to phrase an appropriate answer at the moment, but he won't let her leave. That much he is sure of.

"My apartment...," he eventually says, the words a hiss between his clenched teeth. They are not at work, and he is in no position to give her an order albeit that's what he wants to do right now. Give her an order. _Stop dating this other man_. _Undo it_ – if she really slept with him.

Hotch is staggered by the intensity of his anger. Especially since he was the one who gave her mixed signals in the past. Perhaps it's because he poured out his heart to her and told her that he wasn't interested in other women. That was a big deal for someone like him. And when she told him that he had to do _more than this_, he thought that despite her reserved, even unapproachable, behavior, it was only a matter of when and not in general. Apparently he was wrong.

He expects Emily to back off, to try to leave, but she doesn't. Wouldn't it be such an awkward situation, it would almost be funny how she follows him seemingly obediently to his apartment. Probably it's the guilt that causes her to swallow down her usual back talk.

Jack spends time with Jessica, and the apartment greets them with a reproachful silence that makes the situation even more uncomfortable. They walk into the living room, and Emily sits down, obviously expecting Hotch to take a shower first. What he doesn't do. Instead he is standing in the middle of the room, looking down on her.

She doesn't like it; he can tell by the look in her eyes that changes from wary to defensive. However she doesn't stand up either because that would mean admitting that she is in the inferior position. At least if you reduced the whole situation to their posture. Aside from that Emily Prentiss is anything but inferior no matter what happens.

The situation is similar to the one when she was here after her nightmare. When he rejected her. The memory of the rejection tears at Emily's heart, and suddenly she misses the burning sensation of alcohol in her throat that somewhat took the edge of the pain back then.

It's much too early for alcohol, but they both dumped their only half emptied cups when they left the coffee shop. "Well, since we're here now and didn't finish our coffee, what do you offer as an alternative?" Her question is meant as an attempt to ease the tension; however her words fall on deaf ears. Hotch doesn't react, and Emily realizes how confused and hurt he must be.

"Please, let me explain...," she begins hesitantly, trying go figure out what to say. Emily didn't mean to throw that question right into his face. Granted, she waited for him at the coffee shop to tell him about her date and how confused she is and that she doesn't know what to do. But it all went downhill when she noticed how pleased, no simply _happy_, he was to see her. She was literally stupefied by her blindness. All these weeks she had been thinking that it was him who didn't want to give their relationship a try, who refused to give her _more than this_, when in fact she had been ruling out every possibility for him to even get in touch with her. How can she be so capable as a profiler at work and such a wretched failure in her private life?

When she told him that she gave thought to his concern how a relationship would affect them in the field, this was true. It cost her some sleepless nights, but she forced herself to think it through and came to the conclusion that his concern is justified. A relationship would affect them in the field, would put them in jeopardy. You don't draw your weapon and walk right into an abandoned warehouse to arrest a serial killer without fearing that your lover right beside you might be harmed or worse. It would be impossible to block out these thoughts. They got a first glimpse at the eventual consequences when she walked into the basement alone. Emily understands why Hotch was worried and that his behavior was nothing but an unwanted aberration of his usual professional self. Nonetheless this is nothing they can allow or even tolerate to happen again. Fortunately there were no dangerous situations lately. The next one is already waiting for them somewhere though. That's for sure.

And that's why she dated. Let alone that she believed by mistake at that time that Hotch didn't really want to give their relationship a try. Hence she said yes when this nice guy whom she had seen repeatedly in the supermarket approached her and asked her out. There was simply no reason _not_ to date. Dammit, she didn't even know until a few minutes ago that Hotch's relationship with Beth didn't go beyond flirting.

Emily realizes that Hotch eventually said something. When he registers that she apparently was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear it, he repeats his words, "You don't have to explain anything." Then why does he sound so devastated? "You dated. I dated. And we both did it with good reason. Nothing to explain."

Well, except perhaps the answer to her question.

He is closing himself off. Emily is an expert in doing this, and she fears that he does the same right now. His seeming calm combined with his devastation. She's afraid that he's giving up, resigning himself to his fate. How could they screw it up so badly?

"Don't you want to know?" she whispers. _Don't you want to know whether I really slept with someone else?_

Hotch fixes his gaze on her, and in this moment Emily is hit by the recognition that he is not giving up at all. Instead he has pulled himself together for what he's about to say.

"I don't care." His voice is quiet but strong. A decision. He made a decision. Emily's thoughts start to race. It's... flattering that he seems to accept that she had sex with another man, wants her so much that he doesn't care or at least pretends not to. That's what this is about, isn't it? Albeit if it is, if this really is the moment that forces them finally to stop beating around the bush and confess what they are to each other, then she wants him to know the truth.

"Hotch...," she starts, but he won't let her.

"I said – I. Don't. Care," he repeats determinedly. Emily never would have expected such a reaction from him, and basically that was the point when she asked him that question. To get a reaction. During their talk at the coffee shop she was angry with herself that she had read him wrong, angry with him that he had waited for her to let him in instead of taking the lead. She could have spared herself the whole damn dating thing, the whole confusion. It could have been so easy. He was so happy to see her, and she felt so guilty, having to tell him about her date, a date he somehow had induced because of all his talk about being distracted in the field, that she somehow wanted to throw him off balance. Admittedly childish and immature. She did it all the same and said these words that she knew would cause a visible reaction. Emily can't deny that she knew her words would hurt him and is reminded of his behavior in the basement. In a way she mistreated him now just like he mistreated her then. And even if retribution – or rather a correcting wrongfulness – was not what she had in mind, it might have achieved a balance that they need in a weird way.

"I didn't sleep with another man," Emily says, and she can see the immediate relief in his eyes. No matter what he told her, no matter how surprisingly fast, serious and clear his decision was. "I went on a date, but it didn't go beyond flirting. I couldn't..." She couldn't stand the thought of another man touching her. Therefore she ditched her date. Handsome and nice wasn't enough – he wasn't Hotch. "I'm not interested in other men," she mirrors his earlier words. "I have no solution yet how to handle this, _us_, because you're right – it _will_ affect us in the field. However I want to be with you. Just like you want to be with me." She stops. It sounds so weird, and yet so good, to say this aloud.

There is only one thing left to clarify. "I know it was wrong to sting you with my question. Blame it on my confused state of mind. I'm sorry," she closes her speech, sparing him the details, why she did it and how wrong her estimation of the whole situation was, for now. This can wait.

Hotch's already dark eyes darken even more if that's possible, and Emily is irritated. Shouldn't he be happy? Shouldn't they both be allowed to be happy now? That would be a first for them.

"So I think we're even," she jokes guardedly, getting increasingly insecure when he doesn't answer. "Aren't we?"

Since they haven't moved, Emily has to look up at Hotch, simply has no other option when it comes to their different positions. And eventually she nods to herself, realizing what is going on. Apparently an apology isn't enough. So be it.

"So what's my rebuke?" she asks with a hint of defiance.

Of course she noticed the similarity of his choice of words when he kind of asked her to follow him to his apartment so that they could talk in private. _My office..._ He said that to her more than once in the past when there was a reason for him to reprimand her. At least from his point of view. Most likely there wasn't one single occasion she didn't talk back. Not because she is undiscerning but because she has a reason for what she does and wants him to understand. _My apartment... _The rules, at least the ones they obey at work, say that this is his choice of words before he reprimands her. This is not his office though. The rules don't apply here. Actually there are no rules in a situation like this. Be that as it may, Emily knows after all that Hotch won't let her get away with it that easily. He wants to rebuke her first, and she is absolutely insecure what she thinks about it and how she is going to react.

His calm and at the same time intense stare starts to get unsettling. Hotch's shirt is still soaked with his sweat, and his hair is a little ruffled. Nonetheless even sports can disarrange Hotch's outward appearance only to a limited extent. Yet enough that his appearance is different and this, combined with the awkward circumstances, somehow makes him different. More like the man Emily shared a bed with and less like her Unit Chief. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

Just when she thinks that her reprimand is that he won't talk to her anymore, he reacts. "Stand up," he says with a quiet edge in his voice that sends shivers down her spine and that causes Emily to save the back talk for later and to wait and see instead what kind of special rebuke Hotch has in mind for her...

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N: I couldn't do it. I couldn't let her have sex with another man and I think most (or all?) of you agree with me. So now Emily has to deal with Hotch's rebuke. Hmmm... what could happen next? I have two words for you: It will be _hot_ and _steamy_. (At least that's the plan, and I hope my muse plays along.)**

**I know I sound like a broken record by now, but it's important to me, and I'll say it again and again. Thank you for the alerts and the reviews. I love to read your thoughts about how the story progresses. Believe me – writing is fun but sometimes also hard work and reviews are the reward. **

**And with this, I'm off to write some more. In the meantime leave a review please, please, please.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N (1): First of all let me say that I wanted to publish this chapter sooner, but work is like crazy at the moment, and I had hardly any time to write. So I hope you forgive me for the delay (and that the delay didn't give you, Raquel, an ulcer). :)**

**I also hope you all know how much I love you for reviewing and sharing your point of view on the characters and the development of the story. Since I for once unfortunately didn't find the time to get back to those of you who reviewed recently, here is my THANK YOU: CSIFan4Life, Rugbygirrl, History05, TigerLily888, Lindy, rachreinke, HPforever-after, Tigereye77. Be assured that I absorbed each and every syllable of your comments and that I really appreciate it that you took the time to leave a review. ****Of course I'm also excited that the number of alerts still goes up.**

**So, here it is, the next chapter. Not much plot. They talk and get it on. **

_Additional remark: This chapter was edited and re-posted in order to meet the requirements of the rating. Nevertheless, it is most likely more "M" (although a very, very mild one now) than "T" (like the rest of the story)._

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.**

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><p>This is another Hotch. A version of him that on one hand forgave her for sleeping with another man in the blink of an eye before he knew that she didn't do it and that on the other hand wants to punish her now that he knows the truth. Therefore, only one thing is for sure – Emily doesn't know this man. He looks like Hotch, a little disarranged in his sweaty sportswear but still, and he talks like Hotch. Yet, he is completely incalculable, and Aaron Hotchner, her unit chief, usually is the master of predictability. Usually. Today – not so much.<p>

When Emily doesn't react immediately to his request, command, whatever, to stand up, he takes a step closer to her, and instinctively, she springs to her feet, stands upright before she can control her actions and deny him what he wants.

_See_, his almost imperceptible smile seems to say. _That wasn't so difficult. _But it is. It is difficult to stand right in front of him, so close to him, not knowing what he is about to do. Hotch still doesn't respond, only takes another step closer to her. Just when Emily wonders whether the tension between them is palpable enough to set the room on fire, he slowly reaches out and touches her face.

Perhaps he took lessons in hypnosis because she can't move, isn't sure whether she is still breathing. His hand caresses her cheek and when his thumb brushes over her lips, she almost flinches at the sheer sensation.

"This is my rebuke?" she murmurs, trying to win the upper hand. "Why did you never reprimand me in this way at work?" She is attracted to this man, desires and respects him, but she never thought it possible that he could turn her into submissive flesh so effortlessly. Obviously, she underestimated him.

Hotch's face becomes a blur, and his lips replace his thumb and brush against hers. He kisses her and when he does, she realizes that their earlier kisses, their whole earlier encounters, were nothing but a hasty consummation of a too long suppressed passion. This is different though. This is indulgence. His hands pull her toward him, against his body, and Emily tastes a slight whiff of sweat on his skin and feels the stubbles of his beard when their kiss intensifies. Just when she wishes he would never stop, he does.

There is no distance anymore between their bodies. She can't remember doing it, but somehow her hands found her way to his face and in his hair only to be pulled away now.

"What...?" she stutters. _What is he doing? _

He tilts his head a little, and she detects a fiery smirk in his eyes.

"Your rebuke...," he reminds her. Ah, yes, she almost forgot. "Your rebuke is that I will give you _more than this_ on my terms. And my terms mean that I touch you, and you don't touch me."

Usually, Emily would have snorted at that. No one tells her what to do. Not even Hotch. Well, as her unit chief, but other than that – no one. This is no usual situation though. She didn't know that Hotch likes to play games, _this kind of games_. She always thought of him as an upfront no-nonsense kind of guy. But this game of _rebuking_ her definitely is his kind of taste, and she wonders whether it turned him on whenever he ordered her into his office. And this thought turns her on so that she decides to play along. At least for now. So much for trying to win the upper hand.

"Did you think of that whenever you ordered me into your office?" she whispers huskily and leans into him even if he holds her arms gently by her wrists to keep her from touching him.

Rather than answering her, he pushes her down onto the sofa behind her. Their eyes meet. "Sometimes," he eventually responds to her question and wouldn't he already kiss her again, his admission would have left her speechless.

"What else did you think of whenever you ordered me into your office?" she breathes when his lips leave her mouth only to follow the trail of his fingers dancing across her skin.

She becomes aware that he stopped his movements and looks at her pensively. "I thought of a lot of things," he says. "And not all of them were... these kind of things. I have always been attracted to you, but it never was just about the attraction. I always knew that once I would give in to the attraction, it would be about much more." Hotch's gaze is so intense and vulnerable that Emily is completely taken aback. She can't believe how openly he tells her all this, admits it after all. "But when I thought of... _these kind of things_..." His fingers start to move again, accompanied by his lips, and it feels as if her skin is on fire. "When I thought of it, I always imagined to leave you speechless with my actions, to replace the words of our arguments with a feeling like this."

This time, her gasp is a moan. She is touched by his admission and moved by his words, but at the moment the physical reaction takes over. "Whatever rebuke you have in mind, I'll go along with it," she encourages him, but what she really means is... _Go ahead – touch me, kiss me, make love to me._

"This is not about me wanting to have control over you," Hotch whispers. "This is about you losing control." He hesitates as if he is uncertain whether to say the next words or not but then decides to say them all the same. "You're always so controlled."

At this point, she has to snort, can't help it in spite of her arousal. "That's rich, coming from you! You are the _master_ of control. I have _nothing_ on you."

"Don't hide your light under a bushel," he contradicts her. "Okay, let's agree on that you come a close second." His quick smile disappears and is replaced by a serious and sensual facial expression. "I want to be the one who causes you to lose control," Hotch says with a thrilling seriousness and does that... _thing_ with his fingers and lips again that lets her melt away.

"God...," her voice trails off.

"Overpraise, I'm afraid," he teases. "Just call me Aaron."

She might have called him Aaron before in one of those nights. Emily isn't sure, the memories – as wonderful as they are – too blurry. However, this is kind of an official invitation. This is serious.

"Or call me Hotch," he adds hastily when he sees the astonishment in her face. "That's up to you."

"No," she is equally hasty to assure him. "It's just that..." That what? Here she is in a, well, compromising situation with her unit chief who just offered her to call him by his first name. A sort of appropriate offer considering their situation. Yet, his invitation somehow is even more intimate than his touch and makes her hesitate. Too long, apparently, because she can feel him start to pull back.

"No," she repeats and arches into his touch. "Don't stop." Emily looks squarely into his eyes, still uncertain about how to call him, but absolutely certain that she wants this to continue. She rarely has been so certain about anything in her life.

Hotch's fingers wander down her body, awaking the butterflies in her stomach, and she can't help but move her hips.

"Shh...," his voice is almost inaudible, and he presses her hips softly down with one of his hands.

"Please. I can somehow manage not to touch you, but I cannot _not_ move," she almost begs.

"Shh...," is all he responds again albeit his actions don't go towards soothing her. Not at all.

Emily congratulates herself for the decision to wear a skirt. She seldom wears skirts and never would have thought that today would be a day when it would pay off. But it does. Well, a woman always should be prepared, and she is definitely ready to get her reward.

"God, Hotch... Aaron...," she complains and feels his smile on her skin. His touch is wonderful, but there isn't enough friction. "Oh, yes, overpraise again, I'm sorry," she pants when she becomes aware of what she just said.

"What is it?" he asks sanctimoniously as if he doesn't know and enjoy what is going on, didn't initiate it.

"I want...," Emily starts and stops, suddenly embarrassed that she is about to beg him for release.

"Say it," despite the harsh words, his tone of voice is tender.

_More than this._ When she said those words to him a couple of weeks ago, she didn't have this in mind and was as surprised as thrilled when he repeated them a moment ago to put them in this special context because no words could be more suitable to sum up what she feels, what happens between them. She had her fair share of admirers and lovers. Never, though, she had something like this. His whole personality, his words, his actions – Hotch arouses her body as well as her soul. That is a first, and right in this moment, Emily realizes that she really wants to go through with it, wants the whole package. The man. The commitment. This. Everything. In good times as in bad.

"I want more than this," she voices her thoughts and hears the need in her intonation, still shivers at the imagination that it turns him on to watch her lose control. Hotch looks at her, and she knows that he sees it in her face, understands how many layers _this_ has. Here and now, though, it has only one layer – desire.

"Well, I think I can give it to you," he eventually answers and slips his hand back in place.

He allows himself plenty of time, watching her squirm with pleasure, never has seen anything more beautiful. When she eventually touches him, slips her hands under his shirt and tugs impatiently at his sweatpants, he doesn't stop her, has already proven much more self-restraint than he expected.

After all, this is about losing control.

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><p><strong>To be continued<strong>

**A/N (2): Originally I intended to end the story here. Considering that I only planned to write a twoshot or threeshot, the story is much longer already. I had way too much fun with the characters though to let them get away so fast. BUT... the next chapter will be the last. I enjoy writing this story very much, and I enjoy even more the exchange of view with all of you. However all good things have to come to an end. And it feels somehow right to wrap things up with a kind of epilogue in the next chapter. Since I haven't written one word of the next/last chapter yet, I suppose I won't be able to put it online until next weekend or even until the beginning of next week. Just that you know what to expect time-wise.**

**I'm eagerly awaiting your reviews. Short note, detailed thoughts – whatever you prefer makes me happy, and I'll appreciate it very much.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Again I have to apologize that it took me so long to update. I didn't think that it would take me a week to make up my mind how to end this. Because, yes, as announced this is the last chapter. I know that some of you hoped for another "hot and steamy" chapter, kind of payback for Hotch, but my muse wasn't in the mood. This is the epilogue instead, wrapping things up – at least that's what I had in mind.**

**My heartfelt thanks go to all of you who have this story on alert, favored it, reviewed it or exchanged PM with me. By name and referring to the last chapter: greengirl82, NicknHotchfan, CSIFan4Life, HPforever-after, History05, Rugbygirrl and rachreinke. Thank you so much!**

**Since this is the last chapter, your reviews are even more appreciated. Let me know what you think about the ending. And now R&R please...**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Season Six and Seven.**

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><p>Another day. Another unsub.<p>

Hotch usually makes sure these days that Morgan is by Emily's side when they have to enter a suspicious location or interrogate a suspect. Derek and Emily are partners and best friends, and he knows that aside from himself Morgan will be able to protect her best should push come to shove. Not that she needs protection. He needs to feel safe though. At least as safe as one can feel when they are in the field. Hotch wants to make it work. They both do.

He still can't believe that they're doing this – trying to _make it work_. After their not so accidental meeting at the coffee shop and the passionate love making afterwards there was no way around a decision. _In or out. _There was no fine line to balance anymore. It was an awkward situation when they lay on the couch together. They had been there, done that, but never in broad daylight before, and convincing Emily to stay wasn't easy. Hotch remembers everything as if it was yesterday, even if it was more than five weeks ago. Her inner struggle. His hope that she would stay. Astonishingly enough it wasn't his words that convinced her in the end. "Why should I stay?" Her whispered question hung in the air between them, and there were so many answers that Hotch wasn't able to pick one. "Because...," he started and then kissed her instead. Not a feverish and passionate kiss like before but a tender and loving one. And when she pulled back and looked at him, he could see the same thing she probably saw reflected in his eyes – fear. Yet there was no other way, no way out. They were in head over heels. And she stayed.

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><p>Another night. Another bad dream.<p>

Just because most of the nights Hotch is with her, this doesn't mean that Emily has no more nightmares. They are not as terrifying, not as intense, as before anymore, and in most of her nightmares she even survives. But she still dies in some of her dreams, and sometimes it's still Hotch killing her. She doesn't tell him, doesn't have to. He can tell from the panicked reaction when she wakes up, gasping for air and holding on to him as if her life depended on it. Some day these dreams will vanish. It takes time though, and he will be there, hold and comfort her, as long as it takes.

It is the time between their daily routine and their nocturnal closeness that is the most difficult. They are no ordinary couple. Perhaps they look like one when they take a walk in the park or have dinner together – as rare as these occasions are. But they both bring along too much emotional baggage to be able to do things the easy way. Fortunately none of them is interested in _easy_.

So they don't have to pretend.

Emily doesn't have to pretend that she doesn't notice how Hotch sometimes winces when the weather changes and the scars, Foyet carved into his skin, hurt. Or that she doesn't realize how overly protective he behaves toward his son. A son he almost lost. And Hotch doesn't have to pretend that he doesn't notice how Emily still struggles with regaining the trust of the other team members after her absence. A trust she already has won back again. Yet she doesn't allow herself to believe it.

They both wear the injuries of their violent past on their bodies and their souls. They both almost died. They know that life is too short for pretending.

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><p>However that doesn't mean that they don't enjoy their newfound togetherness. It is a sunny weekend, and they meet in the park to jog together. Even if they are both in good shape, Hotch could outrun Emily any time. All the same he lets her run ahead and lets himself drop back a little. After a few steps she perceives what he is doing.<p>

"Staring at my ass again, g-man? I told you to stop that!"

He can hear the smile in her voice. Despite her words she loves it, this much he knows by now, and he already feels the anticipation rise because he also knows what will happen when they will be back at home later. What _always_ happens when they spend time alone together. It's such a cliché, and yet they fulfill it hook, line and sinker. Hotch can't keep his hands off her, no matter how hard he tries, and he was more than pleased to realize that the same applies to her when it comes to him.

_Home_... that is her apartment or his these days. Although they spend most of the nights together, they still have both of their apartments. None of them wants to make hasty decisions about moving in together, and in addition there is his son who needs to adjust to the situation first. There is no doubt, though, that after _first_ there will be a _then_. A common future.

Emily never told Hotch but when she had that talk with Rossi about second chances, told Dave not to let a second chance slip away, she thought of Hotch. Maybe Rossi assumed it. He never addressed it though. What a quirk of fate that Rossi cited her later on and told Hotch the same thing, causing Hotch in turn to tell her that he considered them his second chance. Thinking about this cycle makes her dizzy and almost awestruck at the same time. She slows down and lets Hotch catch up with her.

"Another round?" he asks, and a smile flits across his face. He looks so happy, and these moments are so rare in their lives. They really need to laugh more.

"You bet!" she calls out to him, pretending that she is already starting to sprint, the thoughts about the fateful cycle still in her head. But when Hotch also wants to pick up pace, Emily suddenly stops, stands in his way and turns around to face him. There is something she needs to tell him. Desperately. And she can't believe that she didn't already do it, only thinks of it now.

"I want a second chance," she says, and it takes a brief moment until Hotch realizes that her words might suit the specific situation but that they have a much deeper meaning.

Hotch steps closer to her. "Yes, please," he says seriously, his eyes a mixture of love, desire and trust, signaling her that he understood what she just told him, before he all of a sudden steps aside and starts to sprint. And he does not pretend like Emily did moments ago. He is running full speed ahead as if something inside of him has eventually been released.

"Staring at my ass again, g-woman?" he calls out to her.

Emily stares at his back speechless. This man surprises her every day anew. And this time she won't let him outrun her again. At least she can try. After all he just offered her a second chance.

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><p><strong>The end<strong>


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